Graduation Day
by Experimental
Summary: Maybe someday I won't be able to stand the way things are any longer and the truth will come bursting out of me, but that hasn't happened yet. . . . Twoshot. Kaoru x Haruhi, onesided Hikaru x Haruhi.
1. Kaoru

Graduation Day

_Mother still has the pictures Hikaru and I made in grade school art. They hang framed in a special place in her office, side by side. We heard our teacher from that time once praised those pictures as being indicative of the artistic talent that runs in our family, but they're not much to look at, really. Just a couple of collages two seven-year-old kids made with autumn leaves and paint. They aren't even that different, really—even if our styles of execution differed, we always chose the same subject in those days—except that Hikaru's is maybe a bit more symmetrical than mine. _

_That, though, is a secret we alone share. As far as anyone else knows, that slightly more symmetrical picture is mine and my slightly more abstract one is his, because that's what the names say. No one else knows that back then each of our seven-year-old selves signed the other's picture as his own. We just let them believe that the picture that says Hikaru was made by Hikaru, and the one that says Kaoru was made by Kaoru—and pick them apart accordingly, digging deep for what each one reveals about us that we alone know is not true. _

_Somewhere along the line we lost track of our original reason for doing what we did. Maybe we had intended to reveal the truth to Mother as some sort of cruel joke, after she proved she couldn't tell the difference between our work, but we either forgot or couldn't bring ourselves to do that after all. _

_Maybe our reasoning wasn't as clearly formed in our minds as all that, and it was just a phase we went through, trying our best to convince ourselves we were interchangeable. A very long phase. . . . _

_I don't even remember what we were trying to prove anymore. But I'm not sure I mind things staying as they are, either. I haven't yet. Or, at least, not enough to change the way things stand. Maybe someday I won't be able to stand my picture being confused for Hikaru's any longer and the truth will come bursting out of me, but that hasn't happened yet._

—= o =—

The last day of class and the cherry blossoms are just starting to pop. The bright pink of the buds hasn't quite faded to the pearly white of open blooms, but the sky behind is cloudless blue and almost convinces you of spring's warmth.

He raises his digital SLR in one hand, holds it steady, and takes a snapshot of a nearby branch.

"So, I guess this is it," she says at his back. "I know I've only been here three years, but somehow it feels like I'll be leaving behind an eternity."

"Speak for yourself. This is the only school I've ever known."

He sneaks a shot of her looking up at the blossoms before she turns to him, her mouth forming a tiny, thoughtful "o". "That's right. It must be like a second home to you and Hikaru, for all the time you've spent here."

"More like a first home."

She doesn't quite hear him mutter that behind the camera, or else pretends not to. She's smiling for him now and he shoots another picture. Hands clasped behind her back, the suit can't completely hide her femininity. Not if one knows what to look for, anyway. She's smiling, but he can't help but think there's something sad in that look, or maybe nostalgic, something that can only be seen through the filter of the camera's viewfinder, or on the preview screen.

Or maybe he's just seeing what he wants to see. It wouldn't be the first time. He doesn't really want to think about leaving this place behind either.

As though reading his thoughts, she says brightly, "But at least we'll be seeing each other at college."

That's right, he thinks. They made it into the same university. Even if they end up sharing no classes at all in common, they'll at least be on the same campus. "I'm gonna have to make sure we keep in touch."

"I'll hold you to it. By the way, do you have any idea what you want to study?"

He raises the camera in front of his face again. He feels more comfortable speaking the truth behind that mask, even if it is just about inconsequential, impersonal things. "I dunno yet. Probably business. Or art. Maybe both. It's kind of expected. . . . What about you? Hey, I want to get a shot of you with your diploma."

As she holds it up, he says through a smile: "I'm gonna 'shop in a pith helmet and monocle and make you Dr Fujioka, world-renowned paleontologist."

She snorts and sticks out her tongue at him for that—which he gets in the shot. She probably doesn't know it, but that's the cutest picture he's taken of her yet.

"Dork. You know I'm going to study law."

"Of course. Like your mother."

She seems taken aback. He doesn't know why she should be. "That's right."

Feeling self-conscious suddenly, he turns his back, setting up a shot of the school building, shining white in the cloudless blue sky behind the lace pattern of cherry buds on the branch. The words seem to throw themselves from his mouth:

"Hikaru wanted me to ask you if you want to do something together before classes start—"

"Hikaru?"

"Yeah. You know, we should go somewhere, the three of us. I think it would mean a lot to him—"

"To him, or to you, Kaoru?"

He goes still under the shiver that runs up his spine, even though it isn't that cool here with the sun shining on them. "Well, we'd both like to treat you to somewhere nice to celebrate our graduation—"

"That wasn't the question, though, was it?"

He starts. She doesn't tiptoe around the issue, but just like the lawyer she wants to study to be, she won't just come out and say it either, and by now he should know her well enough not to be surprised that she can say such accusing words so sweetly.

But something twinges in his gut at her question. She already knows the truth, so why does she need to hear it from him?

She doesn't mean a lot to him, he thinks. She means everything. And that's the problem.

He laughs to himself. It eases some of the pain when he says, "But what about you and Hikaru?"

"What about me and Hikaru?"

He raises the camera—it's an automatic defensive move now—but she won't let him. She knows his tricks too well. Her hand pulls his arm down, turns him to face her, and he's sure she can read everything clearly on his face. Why does she even bother asking? "I was asking about you, Kaoru."

He was going to lie, but the way her brown eyes are trained on him, he suddenly can't do it, and the truth just sort of . . . comes out.

"Yes. It would mean a lot to me."

She smiles.

"There. That wasn't so difficult, was it?"

It's so simple it's abysmally difficult. It's so hard like he can't even express, like the simplicity of the blue sky above them that looks like it's all just one color and yet is _so deep_ he can't even fathom it, can't even render it in paint, in words, in pixels. . . . What would it even prove if he could?

"It doesn't matter, though, does it? You and Hikaru already look so good together." On the countless dates they've taken, the photographs he's taken of Haruhi in her girly dresses leaning on his brother's arm, Hikaru's furtive glances during club, during class. . . .

"Do we?" she says. "You know, you and I probably wouldn't look any different."

_Either one would do_. . . . But he's heard that song and dance so many times before. He's sick of it, because the last person he wants to hear it from is her. No one wants to hear that he's interchangeable. Doesn't she get that yet? His jaw hurts, and he only realizes it's because he's been clenching it too tight.

"I know you've tried really hard to get us together," she says when he remains silent. "Like asking me out on that date when you planned to send him instead all along."

He tries to smile it off, but he can't even force one at the moment. She doesn't know what her words do to him. She can't know how much she's hurting him, like something is breaking inside all over again, like when he watched her with Hikaru on their first date but so much worse. And he can't understand _why—why_ that should be the case when a part of him has been wanting to hear words like this from her since that day. It's just that he's gotten himself too far into this lie to have that right anymore.

"That was three years ago," he says, like that's some sort of excuse.

She sighs. "You always have his best interest at heart, don't you? You must really love Hikaru, if you can sacrifice so much of your own happiness for his."

"He's my brother," he says quietly. _And my twin at that._ It's only natural.

"I know. But . . ."

She struggles for words, eventually settling on: "You can't make something grow when there was never a seed there to begin with. No matter how hard you try."

And all he can think is, no, something's grown, just not what I wanted. Well, maybe he had wanted it, but all the effort he expended these past three years—it was for something that was never going to come to fruition.

And now he's hearing this thinly veiled confession he's been waiting for, and he can't remember a time when he actually got exactly he wanted—and wanted to take it back _so much._

"I think you owe me a date, Kaoru," she says, claiming a debt that's three years old, and all he can think is how fortunate she is to be an only child.


	2. Hikaru

The quilt is wrinkled where his fingers were twisting in it only a few minutes ago, letters and opened envelopes with frayed edges lying scattered across it, bearing the insignia of various universities—bearing his name above the mailing address sometimes, sometimes Kaoru's.

They lie forgotten on a wrinkled quilt as he clicks through one picture after another on the digital SLR's preview screen. Cherry buds. The facade of a familiar school building. Haruhi. More Haruhi. Gazing speculatively into the branches above. Smiling at the camera. Smiling at the cameraman. Big brown eyes piercing right through the lens and smiling right into the eye of the cameraman.

She never smiles like that for him.

It looks similar, that smile, to the one she shoots his way several times a day, but it's different here. Wider maybe. Maybe a little less reserved. He can't really say. He doesn't know how it's different exactly. He can't point to any one spot and say, There it is—can't describe it in words except to say this one is somehow warmer than what he's used to—but he knows it's there and he knows it's different.

Like the brightest, most symmetrical blossom on the tree and he can't reach it.

Only Kaoru, his twin, his genetic duplicate, who's supposed to be the same as him in every way and everything he has, only he can touch it. Only he gets to keep it. How is that fair?

He scrolls through his options and highlights "delete"; but, finger hovering on the button, he can't bring himself to push it. No matter how roiling the pain and the anger and the outright outrage that's boiling inside him right now, he can't bring himself to delete the picture of that girl he loves so much it hurts, and her warm, warm smile.

Even though the person she's smiling for is the brother he loves more than anything in the world.

"Hey, Hikaru, have you seen my cam—"

Perhaps because the answer is obvious, Kaoru stops. Or perhaps it's because of the look on Hikaru's face when he looks up.

"Hikaru? What's wrong?"

"As if you didn't know."

Kaoru blankly shakes his head, but Hikaru is sure he does know.

He turns the camera around and shows Kaoru the picture he took himself, the evidence of his betrayal. "It's that smile that kills me," he says, forcing one himself. "She never smiled at me like that."

Kaoru sighs. "Hikaru. . . . Is that all? You're upset over a smile?"

Then he feels it. Like a leaf dropping from a tree, he's falling, falling, and all Kaoru can ask is "'Is that all'? That's _everything_, Kaoru! How could you do this to me, to your own brother—"

"I really don't see why you're so upse—"

"You knew how much I loved her!"

Kaoru shuts his mouth and lowers his eyes; and he shouldn't have done that, Hikaru thinks, because that's always been as good as an admission of guilt with him. Why can't he just deny it like he always does? Even if they both know it's a lie, maybe it will keep things from changing out of their control a little longer. . . .

"I should have seen this coming," Hikaru says.

Kaoru still says nothing.

"You know on our first date, the one you set us up on, the whole time all she could think about was you?"

Kaoru just looks at him uncomprehending. He doesn't seem to realize he's just making this worse.

"Everything was, 'Kaoru would enjoy this,' or, 'let's get this for Kaoru, since he couldn't be here'. . . . As though she actually believed you were really sick. I was so stupid. . . ."

"It doesn't matter," Kaoru at last finds his voice. "I told her I wouldn't stand between you two."

"You told her that?"

"I . . . I will. I can't return her feelings if it hurts you, Hikaru. You know that. And anyway, we're all going to be together at university, so why would I want to ruin what we have?"

A laugh escapes Hikaru at that and he's not really sure where it came from. Doesn't Kaoru get it? He's already the odd man out, the third wheel. Why should Kaoru punish himself another three or four years on his brother's account? Hikaru can do that enough for both of them.

He turns his brother's camera over in his hands. It's easier than meeting Kaoru's eyes.

"About that . . . I decided to go to that art school instead."

Kaoru can only stare at him.

"I got in."

"But you said you hated art."

"But I got in. And besides, I've already made up my mind."

Then it sinks in, and a snarl pulls at his brother's lips. Not so fast, Kaoru, Hikaru thinks. Just who betrayed who here?

"You're going to a different school because of a couple of _pictures_?" Kaoru says like he still can't believe it. He'll have to eventually, though. Eventually he'll have to realize they couldn't do everything together forever. "You're gonna run away from us for _that_? Don't be such a child, Hikaru!"

And maybe that's all he's being, Hikaru thinks, as he lets Kaoru yell at him, tell him what a stubborn ass he's being. But he doesn't get it. He's stronger than Hikaru ever was—he won't understand that in a lot of ways it's just easier to run away, and pretend nothing's changed between them in the text messages on their phones between classes or their Sunday get-togethers, just as long as he doesn't have to see that smile of Haruhi's aimed at someone who looks just like him, but isn't. It serves both of them right.

He told himself a long time ago he didn't care which one of them Haruhi liked more, that he didn't care if it turned out she didn't care for either one of them.

But that was back when he thought he was winning.

—= o =—

_Mother still has the pictures Kaoru and I made for her in grade school art. She keeps them hanging framed in a sentimental place where everyone who comes by can see them. _

_And as far as she or anyone else knows, the picture that says Hikaru was made by Hikaru, and the one that says Kaoru, Kaoru made. But Kaoru and I know that that isn't accurate at all, because our seven-year-old selves agreed back then that we would each sign the other's picture as his own. Thus when family friends stop by and admire them and say, Kaoru sure has an eye for symmetry, and, Kaoru is so exact with every detail, they're really talking about me; and when they say, Hikaru has quite an eye for color and form, and, Hikaru knows how to bring out the life of the subject in his work, and, I wouldn't want them to hear me say this but Hikaru must be the one who inherited his mother's artistic genius, it isn't really me they're talking about at all. _

_I keep waiting for Kaoru to say something and set the record straight, keep thinking any day now he's going to get tired of looking at those pictures as they are and hearing all those conclusions made about us that aren't true, but so far that hasn't happened yet. So I keep my mouth shut, and keep my feelings to myself. _

_I don't remember which one of us started it, and I don't remember what our original reasons were. Most likely we made those up after the fact. But I do remember feeling relieved when I made the final stroke in my seven-year-old hand, and sealed Kaoru's painting forever as my own with my name. _

_I never told him, but until that moment I was jealous. I've never really stopped being jealous. I've always liked his picture more than my own. That was why I had to make it mine. _

_But it never really was._


End file.
